I bought a copy of the Evening Express this week – it’s a local paper for local people – and buried away on the Readers’ Letters page was the following glittering jewel:
Dangers of Red Light district
I WRITE to tell you about my son who celebrated his 16th birthday by going to the fun fair at the Beach with friends.
But, without thinking, they went to the red light district and lost their virginity. Now my son is suffering from a sexually transmitted disease...
This may sound like a bit of a rant on my part, but WTF? Hello? They lost their virginity ‘without thinking’? Your son’s 16 years old – he’ll have been thinking of little else since he was about TWELVE! ‘Without thinking’, my hairy armpit – it’s not like loosing your bloody car keys is it?
“Hey, Dad, Mom, have you seen my virginity about somewhere?”
“Dunno, Son, have you looked down back of sofa?”
“Wow, thanks, Dad – found it.”
‘Without thinking’. What, ‘without thinking’ he went to a cash machine, took out a wad of notes, wandered into the red light district, found a lady (or gentleman) of the profession, negotiated a rate for sex and then stuck his willy in her/him? All without thinking? That’s some bloody achievement! Kid must be an idiot savant. Well, maybe not so much of the savant… And to prove that idiocy is probably hereditary, the kid’s parent WRITES IN TO THE PAPER ABOUT IT!
And best of all, the letter isn’t about the folly of youth, a cautionary tale for other randy sixteen-year-olds who’ve been saving up their pocket money to rent a bit of carnal naughtiness, about the dangers of unprotected sex, no, this letter is about how it’s all the City Council’s fault!
As our city council allows these girls to ply their trade in a tolerance zone should they not be responsible for some kind of register of these prostitutes?
They should ensure they are medically checked every couple of weeks...
Responsibility must fall with the city council, or the police authority.
Let's get this straight – the council and the police should ensure that your sixteen-year-old kid doesn’t go procuring a shop-doorway kneetrembler for hard cash. First rate piece of logical deduction. We can see where the kid gets his brains from.
But what I really want to know is – how did his parents find out? Can you picture the scene: Mom, Dad, Baby Sis and our hero are sat in front of the television on a Tuesday night. Timmy the dog is asleep on the hearthrug, legs twitching away as he chases dream-bunnies. Mom, noticing something’s not right with our hero, turns to him and says, “Darling, you’re scratching your genitals an awful lot tonight. Is there something you want to ask your Dad, or me, about?”
Our hero bites his bottom lip, has another frantic scritch at his itchy willy, and tells them the whole story...
Mom and Dad listen with sympathy and concern. Then Dad leaps to his feet and says, “Gee, Son, the City Council and the Police have really dropped the ball on this one! I’d better write a letter to the Evening Express...”
Must have been an interesting family night.
Ok, that’s my rant for the week. Have a nice weekend, and if you develop some sort of embarrassing rash, it’s probably best to tell your mum and dad. See if they can get a letter in the paper for you ;}#.
Talk about instant street-cred!